


i am my own hell

by maternaljoke



Series: sleepytwt follower goal requests [1]
Category: SMPEarth, SMPLive, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, One Shot, Platonic Cuddling, Running Away, Short, Unedited We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke
Summary: in which techno runs away, and tommy needs to convince him to run back.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: sleepytwt follower goal requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823998
Comments: 8
Kudos: 567





	i am my own hell

**Author's Note:**

> i am my own hell  
> and i have made my home  
> in a place where no one ever goes  
> ill always be alone  
> im learning all kinds of tricks  
> how to drain the blood from my face  
> and spend all summer in bed  
> so everyone will think im dead  
> \--  
> teen suicide - i am my own hell

It’s a warm, early summer morning when he leaves.

He had expected it to be cold, maybe a light drizzle to redden his face or a chilling breeze to water his eyes. Instead, it’s warm. It feels like a warm afternoon, a sunny backyard filled with laughter and wrestling and the smacking of worn foam against warm, sweaty hair. 

The cicadas can’t drown out the ringing in his ears.

Sweat piles at his neck under his scarf, sinking under his skin and curling under the flesh. 

He makes his way across the backyard, the grains of dry sand and dirt sticking to his feet like glue sticking paper cutouts to cheap poster board. It doesn’t bother him. His hair, thin with sweat and heat, billows against his forehead and whips against his cheeks. It’s almost as if the pink dye staining his hair is wearing down by the sweat, induced by both churning anxiety and freezing heat.

His scarf grazes the air behind him as he reaches the picket fence. His hands press against the sharpened edges, reddening his hands with indents. 

He hops the fence.

The air shifts as he leaves. Despite the heat he feels a chill, a shuddering of breath trailing under his skin and crawling around his bones. It wavers through the trees and grass, flushing against his cheeks.

His mouth is dry.

* * *

Techno watches his reflection dance and twirl in the water. The way it twists and curls in the rippling black liquid, reflected with white moonlight and dotted stars. 

The clouds shift towards him from the distance, dark and grey and thick. He feels their humidity rain down on him, droplets of water staining his skin.

“Techno!”

Techno glances over his shoulder. A short blond stands there, his clothes ruffled and his hair tousled from sleep. His face still has pillow marks, eyes are wide and sharp despite his messy appearance, bright and attentive.

“Techno, why are you out here? Dad and Wil are out looking for you.”

Techno doesn’t respond at first, watching Tommy take a few steps so he’s next to Techno’s shoulder. 

“I was just taking a walk.”

“Techno.”

Techno sighs, deep and hollow. He raises a hand and lets it rest on Tommy’s shoulder, a solid, comforting weight.

“It’s nothing. Just go tell dad and Wil to go home. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m not stupid, Techno.” Tommy shoves the hand off his shoulder, despite the chill its absence leaves. “Why are you trying to leave?”

“I just…” Tommy’s right, as much as Techno doesn’t want that to be true. He isn’t stupid. He may be his younger brother, may be a loud, sometimes childish teenager, but he’s smart. He always has been. Techno figures he always will be. 

He blinks the salt from his eyes. It just sprinkles back to. “I’m just so fucking tired.”

They look at each other for a moment. Techno thinks he sees the stars in Tommy’s eyes. They reflect off his rippling waves like they do on the lake, dark and calm, cool and comforting. They shine with discontent.

“Wanna go take a nap?”

Techno scoffs. “That’s not what I meant-”

“I know.”

Tommy’s eyes ripple.

Techno can’t hear crickets anymore.

He unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

The sun’s peaking over the horizon as they open their backdoor. Wilbur’s standing there, the bottoms of his pajama pants splashed with dry mud and his hair a wind torn mess. He instantly buries himself around Techno, his head resting in the nook of his shoulder despite the strain it pushes onto his neck. “Don’t ever do that again, you idiot.”

Techno can feel the wetness on the side of his scarf, and gently rests his hand on Wilbur’s upper back, managing a muffle of “Mhm,” before Wilbur pulls away and Techno’s scooped up by a man four inches shorter than him.

“Fuck, I was so worried about you.”

“I know, dad.”

Later, half-asleep on Phil’s bed with Phil on one side of him, Tommy and Wilbur on the other, arms wrapped around his torso and his own scratching through Tommy’s hair and along Phil’s back, he thinks to himself.

Maybe being tired isn’t totally shit.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter at [@wilbursand](https://twitter.com/wilbursand)!


End file.
